Victory
by bluespace
Summary: Set after Sleep Tight. A POV. New Chapter, 14!
1. Chapter 1

Victory  
  
By: bluespace  
  
A/N: by popular demand, here they are…headers and quote marks : )  
  
Wesley  
  
The grass seems wet, I'm not sure if its because of the blood or the dew. It really doesn't matter now. Its amazing how quickly you loose feeling in your extremities during massive blood loss, one would think it would take longer really.  
  
Focus; focus Wesley, and stop drifting.  
  
Maybe this arm will work if I just think sternly at it. That's it, just a little bit further and I should be able to crawl. Oh no bad idea can't let go of that. Where is the house anyway?  
  
It went as planned. Well not entirely, certainly didn't plan on the severing of a massive artery. Still, the goal was achieved, well done. I should have seen it coming though. The tapestry of life is like that really. If you remove one thread you have to add another, likewise if you keep one, another must go. It's a small price to pay for the safety of my family really. I wont be running away with him now, now they'll have to protect him. I'm sure they'll do fine.  
  
I can live with this choice. Well maybe Live is the wrong word at this point.  
  
Heh, no one will really know will they, they'll come, bury the 'traitor' and move on to more organized lives, more efficient fighting of evil. But I will know, for a little while at least, that it was the right choice and it worked out the right way.  
  
It seems darker then it did before, either that street lamp has gone dim or I'm worse off then I thought, probably the ladder. I wish I could see the look on Holtz face when the clone dissolves. If that wizard was right, and I paid him well enough to be right, it should last a little over four hours.  
  
Oh, I forgot.  
  
Well this is great; I wasn't supposed to be laying here. There has to be a way to get to him.  
  
Ok think logically. I can't leave a message, not with everyone and his cousin looking for the child, I've established that I can't crawl.  
  
God my side hurts. Did she stab me in the side? I can't seem to remember. Ok but I do know stab wounds don't feel like cell phones. How long does it take to die from this? How long has it been? Why do I ware my watch on this hand?  
  
Focus. Ok I need to wrap something around it before I completely black out. What do I have though? My shirt, if I could just get out of my shirt. When did this jacket get so tight?  
  
Ok one layer gone, good.  
  
Is someone yelling?  
  
NO, no don't move that hand, its holding the wound.  
  
"Wesley, let me wrap it." Wow that sounded like Fred.  
  
Oh, that's because it is Fred. Ok that's too tight, I cant breath now, ok better.  
  
"Where's Conner?" And that would be Gunn.  
  
"Conner is where I left him." Ok obviously that didn't come out the way it was in my head. Did I just say ghugy ghuty fhugy? No wonder they don't understand.  
  
Well the good news is, no more talking hamburgers.  
  
  
  
*Feedback, loven the feedback!! 


	2. Chapter 2

Fred  
  
When we didn't see Wesley's car, I was sure we had missed him already. My first thought was, how will we tell Angel?  
  
I couldn't seem to let go of Gunn's hand. It had all happened to fast. There had been no time to prepare for this. I should be used to it by now, I mean, how do you prepare to be sucked through a portal to another dimension, and I survived. But I'm feeling that feeling again, the panic of not knowing what's going to happen next on a cosmic scale.  
  
We were turning toward the house when we heard the moan.  
  
It was more of a gurgle really. Without thinking I drop Gunn's hand and run toward the sound, it could be anything, but I could be Conner.  
  
It's not Conner, but its worse then the enemy. It's Wesley. I think I'm screaming, I'm not sure though.  
  
I feel Gunn move to stand behind me, that comfort is enough to spur me in to action. I grab Wesley's hand, the one that's gripping his throat to hold in the vital blood. I hear a tearing noise behind me and Gunn hands me the remains of his shirt.  
  
Wesley literally has a death grip on the wound, it takes a great deal of pulling and some stern words of reassurance before he lets go and lets me wrap it. I tie it to hard at first and he tries to pull at it for air before I loosen it again.  
  
Looking at his face, I find it impossible to think of him as a traitor. How had we not noticed the circles under his eyes, or the impeccable Englishman's tattered appearance?  
  
"Where's Conner?" I hear Gunn ask from his place behind me.  
  
Wesley tries to answer, but it comes out as a garbled gurgle. Hearing his own attempt to speak he actually smiles.  
  
"We need to get him to a hospital." Gunn nods and helps me get him standing. We nearly run to the car.  
  
At least he had named the closest emergency room earlier. There may be a chance.  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~  
  
Lorne  
  
You know I'm beginning to see a pattern here. No not in the ceiling, though that is quite lovely. No in the way they react to things, oh and lets not forget the ever-present tendency to leave me behind. I've never felt this out of the loop in my life, and it's a loop I started.  
  
Sighing doesn't seem to help either.  
  
This better not scar. Ok so that was trivial. What I need to do is analyze what I read. Sure he went to see the enemy and didn't tell any one. Twice. But this is Wes; surely there was an explanation of some sort.  
  
He had been out of it lately, distracted and tired, and boy did that man need a good grooming. Yeah there was a problem all right, but I'm not entirely certain Wes was IT so much as maybe the only on who know what IT was.  
  
Ok sitting up that fast, not one of my brightest moves. All right there we go, that's it, you're a room, you don't move, I do.  
  
If I could just figure out what he's been up to the last week or so, maybe it will shed some light on the situation. When did the office get so far away anyways?  
  
"Wow, what happened here?" Ok ow, that was loud. That was…Cordelia.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Had a feeling I was needed." She's looking around at the mess that was once the spotless hotel. "And now I think it were right."  
  
"It seems the site of a massive battle." Groo comments as he walks over and fingers the wall with the blood still caked on it.  
  
"What happened?" uh oh, that would be her serious I mean business voice. I'm not very fond of that one.  
  
"A little earthquake, some fire, and a healthy dose of battle. Not to mention fear, pain, betrayal, and confusion. Yep they all had a hand in making this room what it is today."  
  
She doesn't seem to appreciate the cryptic nature of my answer.  
  
"He's after Holtz."  
  
I'm almost back to the couch, why stand when I can talk just as well from a reclined position.  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~  
  
Cordelia  
  
I didn't think it was possible to be this scarred. I thought I had experienced all the levels of fear in my short lifetime. I mean after the fourth time, even the numb of impending apocalypse becomes old hat.  
  
But this, I've never felt anything on this particular level. And I can't seem to make the car go fast enough.  
  
I have to find him before something happens. Groo sits beside me, but I barely even notice as he points me in the right directions. How he can follow a trail on concrete is amazing, but I really don't have the available energy to marvel at it right now.  
  
Were almost there, I can feel it. Groo can to; he's sitting a bit higher in the seat.  
  
"There." He points, I see it.  
  
It's Angel. I can feel it even before I reach his side. He's not moving.  
  
Ok, and here's another unexplored level of panic. Wonderful.  
  
"Ok let get him back and then we can figure out what's wrong with him."  
  
Its almost like someone else is saying the words. But still Groo helps me lift him and move him into the car. I crawl wordlessly into the back seat with him and begin to smooth his hair. This is bad. Whatever happened here was bad. I have never seen this level of pain in his face before.  
  
I can't even imagine the horror that could have caused it.  
  
  
  
* If you like this so far I could write more. I hadn't planed to write a second chapter, but when someone mentioned it in a review I thought, huh why not. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I forgot this earlier. I own nothing. There I said it, you happy.  
  
Lorne  
  
You never really appreciate how painful a phone call can be until you've been in a battle and the incessant ringing nearly sends you into unconsciousness. They really need to fix that, you know.  
  
Despite the fact I know that speaking out loud will hurt, I answer to stop the ringing.  
  
"Hello."  
  
Ok so it wasn't the most friendly hello I've ever spoken, but give a guy a break, have you heard about my evening?  
  
"We found Wes, we're taking him to the emergency room near his house." Leave it to Gunn to get straight to the point.  
  
"Any sign of Holtz or Angel?"  
  
"No, he was all alone. Listen, we're hurrying but I'm not sure he's gunna make it. Did Conner show up?" I could tell he knew it was a stupid question, but it was one of those things you had to ask anyway.  
  
"No, but Cordelia did."  
  
Silence. Then I can here the not so distant sounds of sincere.  
  
"We're here. We'll keep you guys posted." And he just hangs up. Lovely.  
  
Oh and a door slamming, no that wont be loud. I look over and see Cordy and Groo dragging a conscious but unresponsive Angel through the door.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Don't know. We got there and found him like this." They gently arranged him on the couch and Cordy placed his head on her lap and started to rub his hair. He didn't even seem to notice. Whatever had happened must have been bad.  
  
"Gunn called."  
  
I figured they might want to be well informed on the current situation.  
  
"What did they find?"  
  
"Wesley."  
  
At that one word Angel goes in to game face. Its almost as if his body did it all on its own with no help whatsoever from his tattered mind.  
  
'Shhhh' Cordy tries to sooth him.  
  
"Evidently he isn't doing so well. Gunn said they were taking him to the hospital, that they weren't sure he was going to make it."  
  
Neither of them show any reaction at all. She simply continues to smooth his hair, he continues to stare and Groo is too new to know what any of it means.  
  
Well I'm not. None of this is good. It all points to very, very bad things.  
  
And I swear to god I'm going to kill that phone.  
  
  
  
*Its not long I know, but give it time give it time. I hadn't even expected to write this much. I mean I know what's gunna happen of course : ) but how do I convey that, give me a sec to put it on paper. 


	4. Chapter 4

Lorne  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Answering the phone has now officially become my worst pastime. The patheticness that it is a pastime does not excape me.  
  
"Lorne, has Angel checked in?" Ah Fred. Now that was a voice I liked, soft, sweet, and willing to acknowledge my existence.  
  
"Yeah, he's here, but not doing much checking in at the moment sweet cakes. He's in shock, something bad must have happened out there."  
  
I pause and let that sink in.  
  
"How's Wes doing?"  
  
She pauses even longer. "Not good I don't think. He's not able to talk, and if angel isn't either, well we need to find out what happened, and where Conner is." She almost sounds panicked, her voice raised to that high level she has.  
  
"Ok, oh I don't want to do this; I'll find Lila's number. Angel had mentioned earlier about her possible involvement. If anything she may want to gloat. Worse case scenario, at least we'll know what happened."  
  
I can almost hear her nod; she hadn't quit fully reintegrated yet. "I thing Wesley keeps the number in his office, maybe on or in the desk. I really don't know. I haven't worked in there in a while."  
  
I can tell the stress is getting to her.  
  
"Don't worry doll face, I'll find it. You just keep an eye on the boss ok?"  
  
I can hear her nod again and can't help but smile despite the cut on my face. I exchange familiar goodbyes and glance briefly back at the desolate trio before I vencher into the office.  
  
The place is a wreck really. Papers and blood everywhere. These people really need to get a discreet maid, none of them seems up to the clean ups. I bend to retrieve some of the scattered sheets. Some are covered in incomprehensible writing and I'm struck with the intelligence it must take to make heads or tails of it.  
  
On one such paper, English catches my eye.  
  
The Father  
  
Will Kill  
  
The Son  
  
There's no mistaking who wrote this, and there's no misinterpreting what it means. No wonder he had locked himself in here for nearly two weeks. Now I understand his jumpiness, his short temper, and his unkempt appearance.  
  
Now I'm afraid I may know why silence rules the other room.  
  
I hate being so insightful!  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~  
  
Wesley  
  
The drugs must be wearing off. Or I could be awaking to my new existence. Oh pain.  
  
The drugs must be wearing off.  
  
How did I get drugs again? I try to open my eyes, but the surroundings I find myself in are blindingly bright. It's impossible for me to make out details really. I hear the steady beeping of some life instrument or another; I hear the hushed voices of distant observers. I'm fairly certain that Dr. Abeeb needs to get his butt down to ICU.  
  
Other then that, everything pretty much looks blobby and distorted. I would say it was the drugs, but due to increased pain levels in the general direction of my sever knife wound, I would say they are wearing off.  
  
There's a rustling from the corner and I hear a door open.  
  
"He's awake." Ah Fred's here. How nice. And she seems to be a black man.  
  
I squint again, no that would be Gunn. Painfully a swivel my head in the other direction, and there she is. They are both here with me, but I can't help but notice that neither of them carries with them a bundle of joy.  
  
But I refuse to panic, maybe Angel has him. I did tell them where he was didn't I?  
  
"How ya doing?" Fred asks in a hushed tone of concern.  
  
I honestly try to tell her, I do, but nothing seems to be coming out but a strained moaning.  
  
"Better question, why did ya do it?" Gunn says, seeming not to notice my inability to answer.  
  
Now I know why they look so stern. I didn't tell them, which means they don't know. Which, in turn, means they have obviously jumped to the wrong conclusion. Either they witnessed the clones dissolve and think I'm a murderer, or witnessed Holtz drive with him in to the night.  
  
Either conclusion makes me happy Angel isn't here.  
  
I make scratchy motions with my hand, hoping they will know I need a pen. That I have to write it down. Fred seems to grasp the notions and returns with paper for me.  
  
Unfortunately things aren't always easy, and a Doctor, may even be the disobedient Abeeb for all I know, walks in at that moment. Fred keeps hold of her paper as the Doctor checks me over and then informs them that there is a call for them at the nurses station.  
  
Great, more incrimination evidence has now surfaced and the prophases of a happy hamburger are about to be fulfilled.  
  
I don't think there is a way to prepare yourself for betrayal. And if there is it would be in a book I have yet to read. 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I really like writing Lorne and Wesley, but if there is someone else you really want to see, I could give them a shot.  
  
  
  
Lorne  
  
This is not information you just spring on people, heck, this isn't even information you gradually release. No wonder he kept it all to himself, you cant exactly just walk up to a close friend and suggest you have proof that they are going to murder their own child. And rightly so really, the world is a better place for it.  
  
Or it was until this little bit of info surfaced.  
  
Ok well someone has to know, someone other then me that is. I don't have the heart to break it to any of the people now huddled in the other room. I'm standing to close to them.  
  
So it looks like the hospital sitters get first go. I bet they would be so excited.  
  
"Hello." Ok this woman sounds crankier then me. It must be an unwritten hospital law or something. You must absolutely under no circumstances be pleasant when you answer an outside line.  
  
I bet theirs some truth in there. Like the truth that resides in the fact that you never find anything until you become completely sure you'll never find said thing and stop looking. Or the bus never arrives on time until you really want to finish that smoke.  
  
Ok stop stalling, you have to do this.  
  
"I need to speak with the visitors to Wesley Wyndham-Pryce."  
  
There's a pause in which she considers weather or not to trouble herself with my request. "Hold please." She finally says.  
  
And my ear is now filled with tunes sacrificed on the he elevator altar.  
  
  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~  
  
Wesley  
  
And they just leave, both of them, to take the call. Leaving me with Dr. No name and his cold hands.  
  
"Well you are doing fine." He finally says in that voice we all reserve for the very young or the very stupid. I really don't like him. "When the drugs wear off you can go with your friends, they seem eager to take you home. Personally though I would suggest staying for another night, allow the wound to heal a bit more." He's smiling down at me like a grandfather would to an extremely cute grandchild who needed reassurance there were no monsters under the bed, do you see this. Hello, grown man here.  
  
He pats me lightly on my right shoulder, puts his stethoscope back around his neck, and leaves the room.  
  
The room now is a little clearer, which be logical reasoning mean my pain is about to escalate, but that's just something I have to leave off thinking about. There are other things to focus on now. Like how the room is empty except for me. Outside there is little to no noise, meaning the nurse's station is probably not near my room.  
  
I have but one resolve now. Yep there it is, I have to get to Conner. I'm fairly certain this is a resolve leftover from my last per-wound moments and then I knew first hand what it felt like to be a lamb to the slaughter. Its still strong though, this resolve, not the lamb, and its still important because they obviously don't have the child with them.  
  
I have to get out of here. I should break it in to small steps. Yeah right, I'm having a hard time remembering my name and I'm going to itemize. Just do it. This IV is taped to my arm with enough surgical tape to so close a major surgical wound. Someone in here was way to happy about their job.  
  
Ah but evidently they need to give this massive dose of drugs and pain so you can be completely oblivious to the tap as it removes a healthy amount of you hair with it. Surprisingly though, the needle doesn't hurt at all, I must do this far to often. Which is truly a frightening commentary on my life.  
  
Sitting up it seems is going to be a bit harder then tape removal. I can do this though, my brain has multi-tasked for years. Push up, balance, catch breath, swivel. See, It's really not so hard. But the ground appears to be a good twenty feet down. How exactly do they check on their patients with so unreasonably high a platform?  
  
Breath, brace yourself. I'm just going to push off and land on my feet.  
  
Sure not my most graceful landing, but we were talking twenty feet, give me a break here. And now I'm on the very very cold floor. This must be the hospital near my house. Iv inside it a couple of times, if I remember correctly, which at this point is no guarantee, to ask patch up questions. This place treats a patient right. There are even slippers under the bed.  
  
Ok getting these things on may be a bit of a challenge, how do I lean over and at the same time avoid overbalancing myself so as not to fall flat on my face, which in this gowned would be less then flattering.  
  
Ok if I just stand and slip, that should work. Ah there we go, no I have warm feet. Better.  
  
Ok no to make it to the closet. And pry open this unreasonably heavy door. See, just like I thought, a robe.  
  
Now that I know I wont be mooning any unsuspecting bystanders I can make my way to the child. Hopefully by the time I get there I will be able to form sentences.  
  
Why this hall is just lovely. And the carpet really meshes well with the wall color.  
  
Focus. You are not a decorating commentator; you are a man with a mission.  
  
Which defiantly doesn't include you taking the stairs; use the elevator, live longer. 


	6. Chapter 6

Fred  
  
He's not here; I can't believe he's not here.  
  
"He couldn't have gotten far." Gunn says as he's checking under the bed and in the closet, just to be sure, I mean the man was heavily medicated.  
  
I'm not really sure what to think anymore, it just seems too much to take in at once. Wesley may die, Angel may never recover, Conner is missing, and No one is talking. And with a prophecy like Lorne just told us about, it can only get worse.  
  
"This cant be good."  
  
"I know, but we'll find him." Gunn says, laying a reassuring hand on my shoulder.  
  
"No, not Wesley, the prophecy. It can only mean one thing, either it's already happened, in which case I don't think Angel will be recovering. Or it's going to happen."  
  
Wow you really can see the wheels turning in his head. I hate being the first to figure these things out. But then again I really wasn't, Wesley had.  
  
"He knew."  
  
Ok now no one in this room is talking either.  
  
~~~~1~~~~~1~~~~1~~~~~1~~~~  
  
Wesley  
  
Oh what a lovely child, he's all pink and happy. I don't thing the mother would appreciate me saying so though. I wonder why she's staring at me like that, face all screwed up and eyes big.  
  
Ah a window, huh, I guess I'm not on the ground floor yet after all.  
  
Oh my god, is that me. No wonder she's frightened. I'm frightened. How did all of this happen so fast? Everything was fine just two weeks ago. Everyone was happy, if a bit confused and repressed, but still happy. Now though everything is different. Lines have been crossed, lives have been changed, and I haven't shaved in awhile. I can't remember the last time I went this long without shaving.  
  
It has been established beyond reasonable doubt that medication causes the mind to wander. Alright so what I really need is to get down there were those little people are…attacking that woman!  
  
"Hey! Hey!"  
  
Oh no wait, they're just hugging. Ok that's ok. So where did I leave that elevator.  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Lorne  
  
Ok so I have now established that the number for Wolfram & Hart is not on the floor, on the desk or on the shelf. That leaves only the two small desk drawers and Cordy's amazing filing system under the counter.  
  
Desk first. Ok first drawer has the ingredients for something other then momma's chicken soup. Actually, I think those are the ingredients for my mothers chicken soup. But no number. So second drawer. Oh of course, is filled with bits of paper, because we just can't have enough of that.  
  
It looks like someone was in a hurry to stash these away. Some of it is just scraps, but mostly its those annoying little yellow sticky papers, the true reason I was never cut out for a desk job, other then my natural vocal talents. It was a sick mind that invented these, they are addictive, like nicotine, once you write one note and post it, and it's only so long before you write your next.  
  
These particular ones seem to have been written by Wes. There's a set of numbers on one, like global positioning, or something. On another is the name of a magic store downtown and a phone number. There are several with ingredients listed on them. A couple seem like impromptu receipts.  
  
There was a lot more going on here then mere translation.  
  
But no number to Wolfram & Hart. So it's off to Cordy's files.  
  
Which evidently I should have searched first, seeing as how there is a file just for Lila, right next to Lifeless corps #6, at least their alphabetical. Cordy's still doing some shushing and patting, Angel doesn't look to good, and I cant say I blame him.  
  
And Groo is standing way to close to me.  
  
"Listen, Corn muffin, give a guy some breathing room would you."  
  
"I wish to help in the defeat of what ever evil has done this." Poor thing looks so sincere. How do you turn down a face like that?  
  
"Ok, why don't you head to the hospital, see if Fred and Gunn need any help." At least that will be one less person hanging around here while I'm trying to figure out the whereabouts of the little tike, why Angels nearly catatonic, how the boss's head was almost removed, and what to say to the homicidal lawyers. I'm gunna say none of this out loud of course.  
  
"I will go there at once."  
  
Ah warriors, big, strong, and very susceptible to suggestion. Gotta love 'em. 


	7. Chapter 7

Lorne  
  
There's a hush in the room as a hang up the phone. It's not like anyone else heard the conversation, and so is being very respectfully quiet. No its just I cant hear anything but my heart breaking.  
  
How anyone, even a lawyer, can be so trite and glib about the death of a beautiful child is beyond my realm of experience.  
  
I really need to sit down.  
  
"Who was that?" Cordy is standing over me, that frightened look on her face that she rarely gets. Angel must have finally dozed off.  
  
"Lila." It's all I can say. I for some reason cant form sentences. I'm trying, really I am.  
  
"What did she say?"  
  
So of course she's going to make me relate it again. Because hearing this once in a lifetime just isn't painful enough. But look at her eyes. How can I tell anyone knowing the look that will come over their eyes? Do my eyes look like that, or are they as hollow as I feel.  
  
Deep breathes. Deep breaths, and then I will just have to tell her.  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Wesley  
  
Its really amazing how cool it can get in California, or how easily distracted security guards are for that matter. One, 'oh my god what is he doing to that woman!' and away they good, allowing for patients, as yet unchecked out, to pass freely at their own sweet time.  
  
Unfortunately, for some strange reason that with the neck pain I'm now experiencing I just cant figure out, the streets all look the same. And because of the cause of said neck pain I seem unable to ask anyone else after the reason.  
  
Oh well. I do know I'm near my destination, so that's a start. And what with the disinigration that should have taken place already, analog watches are still at this point beyond my realm of understanding, no one should be looking for the child anymore. So I can wander freely until I stumble on to my destination.  
  
Which could happen at anytime, so I really should keep my eyes peeled as I stumble about.  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Gunn  
  
After the call we just got from the most depressed Lorne I've ever heard, there's really no reason to stick around this hospital anymore. If I know Wes, and for I long time I thought I did, he isn't coming back. Can't say I blame him, not after what happened. I can't even imagine what he's going through, or what drove him to it in the first place.  
  
All I know right now is Fred sobbing herself in to hiccups, Groo staring at me with a confused expression of sympathy, and the knowledge that we just need to go home.  
  
I feel for Angel, I miss the baby, but the main thing right now that's causing my chest to ache, is how wrong I was about the one person I would have trusted with my life blindly. He was the boss, the voice of calm reason when the rest of us where bouncing off walls, talking erratically or jonesen for a fight.  
  
I'm not sure what to believe anymore, its like my world is inside out and upside down.  
  
Except for this little bundle watering my shirt. I've never been sure of anything as must as I am of her. All I can do right now is make sure she get through this, then we can deal with the hard questions together. Right now its just loss ahead, but when that done, I know from experience, things usually get better, eventually.  
  
"Come on, let's go home." Groo nods and precedes us out the door.  
  
  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Wesley  
  
Ah and this would be my house. I knew I would find it. I also know that the drugs are gone, have been for about an hour now. Now there's only mind clouding pain.  
  
But it's worth it. I just have this stop and then all the pain will be over and I can say a fond hello to more drugs. It would have been so much simpler if I could just communicate.  
  
Wait where are my keys…in my pocket, at the hospital.  
  
Great. Oh well, there are a lot of things I learned from Gunn and Angel in the last few years….and this is one of them. Oh and look, works like a charm, though now my leg hurts too. Ok no lights, but that's ok, I know where I keep the pencils and paper. I'll need them to tell the cab where to take me. Ah and there's my extra set of keys, need those too.  
  
I could always grab some clothes. But there really isn't time, I'll have to settle for some shoes and leave the rest as is.  
  
Just this one more thing, this last single objective, then I'm done. They can label me and throw me out, but I'll have done what I needed, accomplished what I set out to, and I can peacefully welcome whatever they see fit to give.  
  
Bugger, when is that landlord going to fix these basement stairs, the last thing I need is a broken leg on top of everything else.  
  
"Shhh, its your uncle Wes, you like your uncle Wes."  
  
A/N: I know it's not as light hearted as the others, but the end is coming so…you know, things mellow… 


	8. Chapter 8

Cordelia  
  
Ok so I had this thought, not to long ago, that I knew what pain was. I mean I had the vision, and my I just reiterate on that count, ow, so pain and me, acquainted. Right? Wrong. I have never felt anything like I'm feeling right here right now. Its like I have no chest. My chest has been ripped out and used as a paperweight somewhere. And my head, it's spinning. My mouth is dry; I can't seem to form entire words, just parts of them, and not together. My hands are shaking, the way Katherine Hepburn's do. My vision is blurry from the tears that just don't seem to clear the lids. And my nose is all runny and red and not attractive at all.  
  
And those are just the physical symptoms. In my mind, well in there it's much worse.  
  
But for me It must be only a fraction, a mere glimpse at he pain that drove Angel in to the shell he's barely beginning to break through. I, I really just can't imagine that. I don't even want to begin to. Right now I'm simply allowing myself to comfort him, to hold everything in and be the strong one.  
  
I think if Lorne walks that path anymore he will ware a hole in the floor, he's trying to be strong too, I think its killing him.  
  
I can tell from the look on Groo's face that he just doesn't know what to do. This is like nothing he's faced before. This isn't an enemy he can charge in and vanquish for us; this is just loss and pain. There really is no cure for them but time, and even then I'm not sure all of us will completely recover.  
  
"Why don't you wait for me at home Groo. There's really nothing else to do here. Let Dennis know what happened and he'll help you get settled in." yep that's my bestest smile. I can tell because he gets that noble crusade look on his face. You can almost hear him square his shoulders and decide that indeed is what needs be done.  
  
He couldn't be any cutter if he tried, and still I find no comfort. Great, that just adds a whole new thing to be sad about. And sadly sighing does not seem to relieve the weight residing on my absent chest.  
  
Has it only been two days, Two days of waiting, not knowing. Two days with Wes in the hospital and Angel unspeaking. It seems like a lifetime. What I wouldn't give for that ignorance to continue.  
  
I'm finding it hard to focus, I wonder if anyone else is having this difficulty. I would guess yes, seeing as Lorne almost got run over by Groo on his way to fulfill my wish and wait at home. And I can't seem to locate what in the corner of the stairs has held Gunn's interest so raptly. Fred's just a mess.  
  
I can see the turmoil in Gunn's eyes, I'm sure it resides in Fred's too, I just cant see hers seeing as she hasn't taken them from Gunn's chest since they arrived.  
  
They have the same warring thoughts that I do. I grieve for the child, the one that was almost the child of us all; he held a portion of all our hearts. And I grieve for the soul of my friend.  
  
Wesley and I have always had a special connection, at first we thought it may be romantic or carnal, that was a flop let me tell you. No our connection was deeper then that, friendship, trust, belief, loyalty. If ever I were in danger I would go to Wes. I think I may have even gone to him before Angel. Angel was forever overreacting; Wes was solid, sturdy, wise. And he just got better. Gunn and I wouldn't have made it without him.  
  
Now I guess we'll have to. The most painful thing though is, not knowing why. Why were we deprived of these two most precious parts of our lives, why did they leave with out a word to explain their destination or their reason for abandoning us, why…is Lorne clapping, and jumping up and down with his mouth open, is that really appropriate.  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Wesley  
  
It's amazing how hard it is to get a cab wearing only a robe and carrying an infant. You would think my state of undress and choice in traveling companion would scream my need for assistance and my willingness to do whatever it took to get said assistance, evidently it doesn't.  
  
Unless you're a truck-driver, a woman, and over the age of sixty-five. All of which Ethel Brogan was. And bless her for that I must say. She may smell like rotten onions and diesel, but she handled the road marvelously and Conner seemed to adore her. Those things being the case, as far as I was concerned, she was a gift directly from the PTB.  
  
"You know honey it's awful dark and chilly to be out in only a rob. Not that I'm judging mind, I'm just observen. But boy you have the cutest little bundle I ever did see." For the fourth time there are 'goochie gooes and drooling' the drooling coming from both parties I'm afraid to say.  
  
And seeing as I can't say anything, it's once again with the nodding as well.  
  
I am definitely sitting beside the anti-typical truck-driver. She is so small she almost needs a buster seat, and I swear she styles her hair after Lucille Ball, in her younger years.  
  
But a ride is a ride, Wesley, and you never look a gift horse in the mouth as they say. Ah and here is the destination now. So no harm done.  
  
Since nodding seems to be my words of the day, I'll have to settle for doing it again as a thank you.  
  
"No problem deary, you just get that youngen in and warmed up. Might I suggest given yourself a little attention too honey. And don't let that woman at you again, you hear." What with her yelling over the engine I cant help but.  
  
And here goes more nodding, man these truck cabs are high, I almost need a ladder. Ahh, solid ground at last, if I wasn't holding an anxious child I would kiss it right now. Alas.  
  
"Well see ya, love, you take care now you here." And with a slam, a smile, and a poof of diesel smoke, she's gone.  
  
Now for the hard part, walking. I feel like I've been walking for three days, and what with the drugs and my lack of ability to tell time for a period, I very will could have been. All I know is I hurt, I'm tired, and Conner is most defiantly wet.  
  
And unhappy about it.  
  
Is it just me or are these door unnecessarily huge, we should really take care of that. They, I mean they should take care of it. There probably is no 'we' anymore.  
  
This is not going to be fun to face, I can see it now. Ok I can't seem to walk through the doors. Like a vampire uninvited. Oh my I don't know if I can do this. Well I'm not leaving him on the steps that's for sure, which means I have to go in.  
  
If my knees don't give out before I get inside the door. Which they very well might. One step at a time, Wes, you can do this, you have faced worse I'm sure, just think back and try and find it.  
  
And why do we have clapping?  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Cordelia  
  
I cant breath.  
  
I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing. That it. That's the problem I'm hallucinating. I just think Wes just walked through the door carrying a bundle and fell to his knees. That Lorne cant stop jumping and Gunn and Fred our staring as dumbly as I at what cant be there. And Angel...  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Angel  
  
I remember the initial shock, the pain like nothing I ever felt in Hell, the noises and the wait. I remember Cordy vaguely at first, then with more clarity as time wore on. I wanted to tell her what happened, but if I did it would be real, and I would give anything for it just not to be real.  
  
I remember them discussing Wesley, and the new pain I felt, and the anger, and the betrayal. I remember when everyone arrived, when everyone knew, and the silence. Most of all the silence.  
  
But the specifics don't start until the scent I thought never to smell again wafted past my nose. It was followed closely by the sound of distant clapping and the noise of someone falling.  
  
That scent though, the one what now wafts smoothly to my nostrils as I greedily drink it in, that is the scent of salvation. He's here, I know, I felt him outside, but I thought it was a phantom, like the pains that remain when a limb is removed.  
  
But here he is, wriggling in the arms of the broken man just inside the front doors.  
  
My son.  
  
If I don't burst in to flames from this joy, the sun will never hurt me!  
  
  
  
**A/N: hey guys let me know if its favorites worthy, this ones just flowing for some strange reason, and it gets more reviews then the fics I spent way more time one, maybe I should do them all in first person? 


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: sheesh, settle down, I wasn't done yet!  
  
Wesley  
  
I think its safe to say they seem shocked. Maybe blown away or catatonic, might describe the faces I'm seeing better. All except Lorne who's jumping like one of those street dancers from a bad early eighties movie.  
  
Ok the staring is fine and good, but I'm in pain and I'm barely holding a screaming child. Could someone help me please? No, no one is moving. Of course I didn't actually say anything, but still, should be fairly obvious.  
  
Oh look at the pretty blackness.  
  
And there's the floor.  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Fred  
  
I don't think anyone knows what to do. We are all just kind of standing here. 'sept Angel who's slowly making his way forward, as if, if he moves any fast they might just up and disappear. At this point it really wouldn't surprise me. I may never be surprised again.  
  
They both look so dirty. Wes's face is covered with soot and his legs are black with dirt up to mid-calf. The baby blanket is in dirty taters as well.  
  
But who cares really. Their here, both of them, intact!  
  
Oh someone catch him!  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~~  
  
Lorne  
  
I haven't jumped up and down like this since it was a required dance for the youths at the village beheadings. And at that time it was not fun. Now though I just cant seem to help myself. I have never seen such a happy site in my life. And of course they're in desperate need of a bath, and if the smell and screaming is any indication, a changing, but they are here!  
  
Oh I wish I could stop jumping, I mean what is up with that really.  
  
Oh that's gunna leave a bruise.  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Cordelia  
  
I want to be jumping! This is unbelievable. I can't believe it's happening, hence the unbelievable ness of it all. Wow. Are there really any words? Can anything adequately describe the feelings flowing through this room right now? It's beyond amazing. The two I was well in to grieving for, they are right here.  
  
Wow! I don't think there are any words, I'm speechless.  
  
Oh, ow, but at least I'm not flat on my face.  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Angel  
  
I'm not sure there is anyone else in the room but this screaming jewel. This perfect gift. This beautiful present. And the man responsible for the giving of it.  
  
Two things I would never think to see again, one of which I was determined to kill slowly if I did. Everything is different now though. Look at that perfect drool, granted, not attractive on a grown man, but it shows life. And the smell of urine, baby pee, who thought it could smell so wonderful.  
  
Woe! That was close, good thing I had worked myself close enough to catch Conner, or we would have baby splat, yes we would. Oh I think I'm going to explode with happiness.  
  
Can someone pick him up?  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Gunn  
  
And I thought the room was full before. Full of grief and pain and loss, but now I'm sure it will explode outward with all the joy and relief and wonder what now seem to fill it. I can barely see what's happening through my unshed tears; I was so much more macho before these people.  
  
Oh that would be the foggy Angel inching his way forward toward the blurry Wes and screaming child. The man looks beat, Wes, not Angel. Angel looks more then fine.  
  
And I thought the hockey smile had been huge, wow look at that thing.  
  
Oh no! Oh that was close. But then I think someone should go pick up Wes.  
  
I have legs, don't I? 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I can't stop! Help me!……also, gunna take some advice here and write more stories in first person, so look for my next thing to post, may be andromeda though. Plus I have no idea how long this one is gunna make me write, its so pushy!  
  
  
  
Wesley  
  
Ok so there are voices, that much I know. And due to the lack of neck at this point I would assume that there are also drugs. Always a happy addition to any day. But for some reason there doesn't seem to be higher brain function, could be due to the presence of the drugs, could be due to a lack of head, at this point I'm not really sure.  
  
Either way I'm happy about it, extremely happy, as a matter of fact.  
  
And there are voices, one of which is not quite forming words.  
  
"Yeah, daddy was sooo scared, yes he was, yes he was. He was scared out of his mind, yes he was, he was, he was." And that surprisingly is the coherent one, what kind of world am I waking to?!  
  
Oh look, a hand that moves, so why can't I see it?  
  
"Easy Wes." There's suddenly that voice again, only now more serious and closer. "You hit your head a good one. You're going to have to take it easy for awhile."  
  
Oh, oh, I have eyes, look, look and they work they really work! You are Angel. I know you.  
  
"That's it just lay back." Am I not already lying back, did I miss something here? Evidently I did because now the world is at a different angle then I used to be, which by the way my stomach is not very happy about.  
  
How long has he been here? I seem to remember the voice for a while back, like I've been out for quite some time. I remember humming and talking, if you can call it that, and singing quietly. And of course it was all accompanied by the presence of gooing or squealing or infantile laughter.  
  
Which means Lorne, and Cordelia, and Fred had also been here at some point.  
  
It's the why where they here that my brain seems unable to wrap around. Me being the one who put the child in danger, I did do that didn't I? It's so hard to think right now. Maybe I just need some more sleep. Or a Popsicle, that seems like it would help to. So without talking how does a drugged, barely conscious, Englishman ask for a Popsicle. This will require some thought wont it, darn.  
  
~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~1~~~~  
  
Angel  
  
Could a baby be any cuter, I think not. I wish Cordy had left me the bottle though when she left to sleep some. I think he may still be hungry. Father's intuition.  
  
I can't stop smiling; I'm still Mr. Dad. He's here, and I'm having trouble picturing him gone. Like my brain doesn't want to except that it was anything other then a very bad dream that I eventually woke from, and there he was. It's a logic I can't seem to fight right now.  
  
Those feelings I was having, they are all wrong now. I was feeling pain at the mention of my sons name and rage at the mention of Wesley's. Now I can't imagine those feelings associated with the two persons before me. Conner's name, spoken or thought, brings nothing but the deepest joy to my heart, a joy that any other time would scare me and have me begging to be chained, and a love of the deepest roots. And Wesley's name arrives with an overwhelming gratitude and love.  
  
These have become the pillars in my life.  
  
It seems so uselessly nieve and trite that two weeks ago I was wallowing in pain at the thought that Cordelia had found someone else. I thought I was so alone, seeing Gunn and Fred together only served to deepen that feeling. Because of that I was clinging to Conner with all my inhuman might.  
  
But now I see I wasn't the one alone. Some of us were so intent on the help of others, so focused on sparing the pain they were already feeling that no one noticed how alone they were.  
  
Well Wes will not be alone any more.  
  
I think as long as there is Conner or I, he will always have a place somewhere, I will see to it. I think that way, in a way, I wont have to be alone again either. I defiantly don't want to feel that terror ever again.  
  
"Yeah, daddy was sooo scared, yes he was, yes he was. He was scared out of his mind, yes he was, he was, he was." Oh look I got a bubble out of that, well then it was well worth it.  
  
I think Wes's arm just moved, did I see it or did I just want to see it?  
  
Nope he's awake, and sitting up like a zombie on a coroners table. It's almost creepy. Ok it is creepy. Especially with his eyes opening so slowly like that.  
  
"Easy Wes. You hit your head a good one. You're going to have to take it easy for awhile." I'm just going to apply a little pressure to his chest right here, and try to ignore the eerily blank expression in his eyes.  
  
Ok there doesn't seem to be any resistance to this, "That's it just lay back." gunna step back now, seen Conner get that look moments before I get a second look at what he ate for the day.  
  
He looks to have it back under control though. Except, ok, what does that hand motion mean, do I even want to know? 


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: sorry this took so long, RL, and all, you know how it goes. (  
  
  
  
Lorne  
  
I have no idea why people rant and rave about crocheting. At this point, having undone the entirety of my work for the third time, I would rather sit through a coming of age ceremony at home, excrement and leeches included.  
  
The most unsatisfying thing is how hard it is to really throw yarn, it never goes far enough. Oh well, someone will trip over that, and my work will not have been in vain.  
  
The clock on the wall tells me it's been five hours since the last time Wes was awake. He looks so restless in sleep now, like he's fighting something. I think Angel got frustrated with not being able to do more, that and the smell of urine gets old after awhile and you just have to change shirts. So here I am, watching the watcher, and deciding without a doubt that I like quilting a lot better.  
  
So no yarn, no music, and thumb twittling became old four hours ago, what is a guy to do?  
  
I could wake Wes up and play charades. The doctor Angel had in here not to long ago, said that the damage to the vocal cords wasn't permanent, that is was mainly swelling that was keeping them inactive. He also said that with sleep and drugs the patient would be up and at um in two or three days. It probably would have been sooner if not for his trek across Los Angeles and the inept interns first diagnosis. Imagine wanting to release this man so soon, ludicrous.  
  
Now that's all behind us. There are just some miner wounds to repair and we can all go back to fighting the good fight, or quilting the good quilt or humming the impossible hum, as the case may be.  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~  
  
Wesley  
  
I'm positive that I am not hearing things. I'm also positive that what the world really needs right now is a good Kazoo, not those cheep plastic ones, I could be wrong. That is humming I'm hearing right now. Have I mentioned I like drugs?  
  
Oh the room is bright. And squinting hurts.  
  
"Oh, sorry cupcake, needed more then the normal light to use the needles." That would be Lorne. What does he mean needles.  
  
And still too woozy to sit up. Now that I know that, back down I go.  
  
"Please stay down, I just washed this shirt." Is it just me or does he look greener then usual.  
  
"So the hero has awakened, and about time really. There's only so many times I can answer Fred with, 'soon'."  
  
Who is he talking to, is there someone laying behind me, cause that's just rude. I mean I know I'm not one to make demands at this point, but really, could I get my own room.  
  
"I'm talking to you, creampuff, you saved the day." Ok now not only is he making fun but he has also insulted my manhood. And the sad thing is I'm really too tired to do anything about it.  
  
"Never saw that look on Angel cakes face before, I though we were going to have a in door bonfire for a second there. And Cordelia, well, I thought she was bossy before, and I was sourly mistaken."  
  
He is talking way to fast, is this his normal speed. It seems really fast, how can anyone process words that quickly?  
  
"You still don't look so good. Let me go see if there's anything Cordy wants me to force down your throat." Even though he's smiling, what with the horns and all, I'm not sure if that's a threat or not.  
  
Now that I'm alone, I should take stock of my situation. I'm in a room, of the hotel obviously, I remember walking here, and an old woman with a distinctly diesel smell. I remember finding and returning Conner, and the clone, I remember the clone.  
  
Good so every thing should be ok then. I just tender my resignation, as quietly as possible of course, and slip out the back and start my new life as a concert Kazooist, or there is this odd desire to take up crocheting.  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~  
  
Lorne  
  
I've never seen anyone more as fast as this group when told that sleeping beauty had awakened. It was like suddenly there was a disturbingly solid wind from the north. Good thing I knew to get out of the way, not that anyone noticed of course.  
  
Trudging up the stairs doesn't seem nearly as dramatic, but give me a break I've been sitting by that bed for five hours, my legs think my head disserted them again.  
  
"Very funny Lorne, where did you put him?" Funny she doesn't look amused. Cordy with hands on hips, not a good sign.  
  
"Where did I put who?"  
  
  
  
A/N: ( 


	12. Chapter 12

Lorne  
  
"Listen, this is already old. Where is Wesley?" ok not liken that tone of voice, or the expression on Angels face, or Gunn's ax wielding hands, or Fred's incessant nodding. Basically I should just turn around and go back down stairs where things are less scary.  
  
"I didn't put him anywhere. He woke up, I told you, end of story." I'm hoping that keeping my hands in the air will not only prolong my life, but also inform them of the ridiculousness of this situation. Because really, what looks more stupid then I guy with his hands in the air. Be honest, I'm open to suggestions at this point.  
  
"Ok, ok, lets keep a level head here." I think that would be more reassuring if Gunn had lowered the ax as he said it. But nope, still solidly wielding it. Not a good sign.  
  
"He really couldn't have wandered, off could he have?" Fred looks more scared then angry, that could be a step in the right direction.  
  
Ok, arms above the head, not a stance you can hold forever. God this hurts.  
  
"Why would he wander off?" Cordy still has her hands on her head, and why is she looking at me when she asks that?  
  
"How would I know, I wasn't even in the room when he left it!?"  
  
"Spilt up, lets find him." Ah Angel, sad that he is now the voice of reason, or should I say scary?  
  
But at least I can lower my arms, always a good in any victory.  
  
So to deal with the problem at hand, we have one missing, dazed, drugged, and injured Englishman. And we still have no idea why he's missing in the first place. Maybe a trip to the weapons cabinet would not be out of the question at this point.  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~  
  
Wesley  
  
Funny I didn't even know these elevators still worked. But then I also didn't know how bad of shape the roof was in; I mean really, this is disgraceful. Pigeons don't even live up here.  
  
Ew. On second thought, maybe they do. I wonder how you get that out of flannel.  
  
Focus, do I really want to be on the roof? Answer, no. Ok so why am I on the roof? Answer…um..? Ok so course of action would be then to get off the roof. Back to the elevator I go.  
  
I just love these kinds of buttons. Pull and twist to get to your floor. You just don't see this kind of craftsmanship anymore.  
  
Now which one did I pull? 


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I dedicate this chapter of my seemingly ongoing story to: Diane Weiss and Tigerwolf and all the other faithful reviewers, you're the reason I keep it up. That and my pesky muse, but that's another story (  
  
On with the show:  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~  
  
  
  
Wesley  
  
Ah the basement. I haven't been down here in a long time.  
  
The flowers where I nice touch, they really add warmth to the cement room. I personally thing that there should be a training mat or something though. The concrete has to hurt pretty bad.  
  
I shouldn't complain about it though, seeing as how I would probably just trip on it anyway.  
  
Its funny I didn't even know the elevator came down to the basement.  
  
The things you learn I guess.  
  
I wonder what this button does.  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~  
  
Lorne  
  
Ok so a sword would probably be a bit overkill, considering it could just be a wounded man I'm stalking. This dagger is really nice but I don't know how to use it and its not one of those occasions where I'm wearing it just for show, so that's out. The ax is must to heavy.  
  
So I guess I'm going with the crossbow. Always a good choice anyways. Kill your enemy without stepping in to range. Foil is plans while standing at a safe distance. Yep that's much more my style.  
  
Actually I thing my style is to scream and run, but that's effective to in its own right.  
  
What is that noise?  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~  
  
Wesley  
  
Well if I had known it was going to make that kind of a racket I never would have pushed the button. It's certainly not a quiet alarm, that's for sure.  
  
How long does it take to go up one floor, honestly, I think my head is going to implode? This is worse then Angels singing.  
  
Wow I can stick my fingers in my ears to the first knuckle. I wonder if there's money in a trick like that?  
  
Finally, some reprieve from that noise.  
  
Ok I know it was bad, but is there really any need to shoot me for it?  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~  
  
Lorne  
  
The noise seems to be coming from the elevator, like an alarm or something.  
  
God its worse then Angels singing. I don't envy anyone who has to listen to that while trapped in a small box, or to the alarm either, for that matter.  
  
What if it's not an alarm? What if there's something in there? The something that got Wes, its paranoid reasoning I know, but have you seen what we go through here. Anything is possible, and if it's possible, well in this hotel it's probably true.  
  
I really need to move.  
  
It's opening, is that a good thing or a bad thing. Oh the sound got louder, so defiantly a bad thing.  
  
What is that in there? Well better safe then sorry, I always say.  
  
Actually I always say, Sammy was as good as Frank any day, but the safe one comes a close second. 


	14. chapter 14

Lorne  
  
Well I tell you one thing, it's a good thing I can't hit a barn door at point blank range. Also I would like to take this opportunity to thank the PTB for having the foresight to provide me with an iron constitution and for eliminating my fainting tendencies at an early age. If it weren't for these insightful biological provisions I would now be remarking on how well the taste of marble and dust mix with the slight blood glaze on the floor.  
  
I think the bolt tore his clothes before it lodged itself in the elevator wall behind him. Could be worse though, much worse.  
  
I think I may have spoke to soon, I really need to sit down.  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~  
  
Wesley  
  
Hey, he tore my coat! Oh I'm not wearing a coat, what am I wearing?  
  
Focus man, its not really important, remember, resign, slink out, and then allow your mind to wander to those enticing depths of drug induced meandering.  
  
What was I saying?  
  
Oh look, ground floor lobby. It's about time, really. Who designed this elevator anyways? Hey there's an arrow in the back wall of this thing! Oh yeah it just got there when someone tried to shoot me.  
  
Someone tried to shot me! We're under attack!  
  
"Lorne this is no time to be lying about! We're under attack!"  
  
"We are?" well that's a dumb question, when aren't we?  
  
"Yes we are, I saw it with my own eyes, they tried to kill me!"  
  
"They did?" that was in a more appropriately raised voice. And now he's finally getting to his feet too, good use of motor skill, I really should compliment him.  
  
"We wondered if something like that had happened."  
  
How did they know about it so soon, it just happened? Must be a vampire thing.  
  
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~  
  
Lorne  
  
Well now we know. This stumbling man before me has been the victim of foul play. I probably didn't help matters with my little arrow incident either. Probably scared him half out of his mind.  
  
Which reminds me, the man looks out of his mind, but really that's a topic for another day.  
  
Wait, if he was under attack, and he just made it to the lobby, possibly being chased, that leads me to think there may still be bad guys on the premises.  
  
"I think we should run."  
  
"Hmm, could be a problem." Now he's staring at his legs as if they should now be moving.  
  
"Your right, maybe we should set up a strong hold, hold them off till angel and the big guns get here."  
  
"Better." He's agreeing with a lopsided nod, the judges will accept that answer. 


End file.
